


After the Contest

by baranduin



Category: Alexander Trilogy - Renault
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-16
Updated: 2010-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-06 08:43:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baranduin/pseuds/baranduin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Karmania, a brief encounter after the contest which Bagoas wins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Contest

I should have taken off my garland long before; the contest had ended hours ago, all the dancers and audience dispersed throughout our Karmanian city of tents. I tried once to take it off, but he said, "No, I like it on you," so of course I left it perched on my head.

Now it was a little worse for the wear, but not much. He had regained some of his strength and a little of his desire, but I saw to it that he did not squander any of his hard-earned vigor. I ran the sheet-gold ribbons through my fingers, straightening them a little, while I watched him sleep. As I said, it was just a little worse for the wear and was easily restored. Would that I could restore him by just passing my fingers over his body, smoothing away his scars and lines.

I left him sleeping soundly and started to make my way toward my own tent. It was very late, and even the most drunken reveler was sleeping so it was very quiet except for the occasional snore. Quiet and cool. The air felt so soft against my bare arms and legs that I did not hurry, for I knew that I could sleep well into the morning if I chose. He would not wake early. I knew that.

There was a small stand of trees near the edge of the camp, and I found my feet taking me there. A light breeze ruffled the ribbons against my cheek though the garland was in no danger of flying off my head. I knew it was vanity to keep it on even now, but I did not care. Or rather, I did care and all I wanted was to keep it on in memory of the day, of the dance for him. It felt right to wear it, and I knew that I had won it not only for the dance for was he not still alive?

As I came closer to the copse, I saw one of the trees move. Ah. So I was not to be alone. And it was too late for me to retrace my steps without appearing rude to him.

Hephaistion stepped away from the cover of the trees. He usually schooled his features to a smooth passivity when he saw me, but the quick look of dismay told me that perhaps I'd startled him for once. Or maybe he'd just drunk enough wine to dull his reactions.

He came close to me. I thought at first that he would pass by me without saying anything, but he stopped. "Does he sleep?"

I nodded. "Yes, deeply."

"Good."

We stood and looked at each other a long minute and then he did something so very strange, or at least unlike to how he had behaved to me in the past. He reached out one hand and smoothed one of the gold ribbons, straightening it, not that it needed it after my own actions. His fingers were hard and strong and warm as they brushed my cheek, and I knew that, even though he was a little worse for drink, this was no accidental touch. It horrified me. No, that is not true. What horrified me was that my body responded to him, to that little brushing.

He swallowed hard and dropped his hand to my shoulder and I felt the imprint of each of his long fingers through my tunic's fabric. There was a certain weight to them. "You danced well," he said. "He was proud of you."

I licked my lips, suddenly parched, no doubt the result of my own indulgence in the strong red Karmanian wine that flowed so freely for all of us in those days after our long drought in the desert. "Thank you. It was for him."

Hephaistion nodded but did not speak and I was momentarily disappointed that he did not. Foolish of me for, after all, what had we to say to each other? Our dealings were conducted mostly in coming and going, in silence and brief nods. So he said nothing and I did not really expect him to. But he did not move away from me. Oh, he started to, I could feel his body begin to withdraw, his hand slipping from my shoulder but then he surprised me again by stepping closer, so near that I could feel the warmth of his body.

I had to crane my head up to look into his eyes. That was strange as well, but he was tall, so much taller than Alexander. And his hand, the hand that started to slip away from my shoulder, did not leave my body completely. Instead, he merely moved it inch by inch from the thin fabric of my tunic to the bare skin of my throat. I breathed in his scent—strong, musk, sweat—while his hand caressed my throat, his thumb stroking my skin so intimately that surely he felt me swallow convulsively.

He leaned toward me and, may all the gods help us for our disloyalty, I leaned up into his embrace, and his mouth was on mine for what seemed like a very long time though I do not know in truth how many minutes passed. And it was very strange, this meeting of our mouths. They did not fit well together, at least not at first, but it did not stop my mouth from opening beneath his nor stop me from welcoming his thrusting tongue. His hands, oh, I came to, gasping for breath, and found him staring at me, his hands wrapped hard around my arms. That lasted but a second, for as soon as I opened my eyes and met his gaze, he jerked away from me without a word and stumbled back to the safety of the well-peopled camp. As for me, I waited a discreet ten minutes before returning to my own tent though not to sleep, at least not until the sun began to rise.

I have thought long on our midnight encounter, and I have always wondered this one thing. Which one of us was more horrified?

And I also wondered whether he ever told Alexander. I do not think so, though that is most likely wishful thinking. I do not know.


End file.
